


Vivid

by queen_tommo



Series: One Direction Alphabet Challenge [3]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 14:35:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4923355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queen_tommo/pseuds/queen_tommo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Your soulmate is the only one that can bring color into your life.<br/>They are also the only one that can take it away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Vivid

There is nothing more brilliant than this.

The sky is a beautiful mix, a soft blend of orange, of pink, of purple, colors he never knew before but now cannot live without. Underneath that sky stands Harry, who, despite being open to all the colors of the world now, still dresses in mostly black and white. His boots, however, glitter gold, while the rest of his ensemble paints him like a shadow. He wears a radiant smile, a bright white, as he holds his hands behind his back and leans to his left, always his left, and asks, "What're you doing?"

Louis breathes it in, all the colors, all the love, his soulmate in front of him and the world surrounding him. He holds Harry's camera in his hands, shaking it slightly as he laughs. He says, "I'm trying to take all the pictures I can, now that I can see them right," taking an old quote right from Harry's lips. Pink. Harry's eyes spark in realization. Green.

"You," murmurs the younger, holding still long enough for Louis to take the picture. The breeze musses his hair. Brown. A few strands stick to his cheeks. Peach. "Clever."

"Yeah?" Louis finally presses down on the button, fills Harry's sight. White. "Thanks." He says this with a cheeky little smile, setting the camera in the grass. Green. Harry's eyes. He doesn't miss the way Harry's face screws at the thought of his camera on the ground and scoffs, "It's on my hoodie, Harold, don't have a heart attack."

Even as the sun begins to set, the colors around them remain vibrant. When Louis pulls Harry close, the silver of his necklace shines. Louis stares at the necklace, lets his fingers tangle in the chain to keep his attention, but Harry stares at Louis' eyes. Blue. A magnificent blue, his favorite blue, a mix of the ocean and the sky and that one blanket he hides under when the nightmares get to be too much.

"I think it makes sense, your soulmate being the only one that can bring color into your life," Harry mutters after a moment, nice and slow, and Louis may not look it, but he's hanging on every word. His slender fingers fall from the chain with a bit of difficulty, sliding down Harry's chest, and he hums.

"How's that?"

"The most beautiful person brings the most beautiful thing. Simple."

Louis' cheeks flare. Rose. He ducks his head and closes his head, mutters, "You're awful," with a smile breaking across his face. "God, you're so awful."

"I know," and Harry lifts the boy's head for a kiss, one that fills the world behind his eyes with color, something he would think impossible, yet here it is, bright and real and vivid and alive. "I love you."

Louis pulls away just the slightest bit, scrunches his nose at Harry's soft and sappy murmurs. He adores them, really, feels more special with each one, but he can't let Harry know that. And yet, he fails. His smile spreads wide, unable to be contained any longer, and he rests his head on Harry's shoulder, breathing with him, gaze resting on his the sunset. Orange. Violet. Pink. "I love you, too." He takes a moment, grinning still, and grabs tight to the hem of his soulmate's shirt. Black. "But you already know that."

Harry teases, "How do I know for sure?" before running his fingers through Louis's hair. Cinnamon.

"Because I see color, Haz," Louis says slowly, honestly, like he's telling the younger a heavy secret. He closes his eyes. Blue. Harry opens his. Green. "Just like you, yeah?"

"Just like me."

Another kiss, more fireworks behind eyelids, before Louis separates to pick up Harry's camera. Silver. He hands it to Harry with care, knows how much it means to him. He then reaches for his hoodie. Navy. He carelessly shakes off a bit of grass and dirt before pulling it on and taking Harry's hand, bigger than his, warmer than his.

"Let's head home," he says, pulling, leading the way, loud and excited and bright. "It's getting dark."

And Harry almost says that it's never dark when they're together, but he bites it back, imagining the groan he would get in response. He just follows along, instead. He keeps his fingers intertwined with Louis', unable to contain his grin when their rings click. Silver.

"You should wear more color," Louis says out of nowhere as they climb into the car. He takes too long to settle in his seat, poking at Harry's thighs, pulling at a belt loop. Black. "You'd look good in it."

"I will," and maybe Harry only says it so Louis can start driving, but he doesn't need to know that. "Soon."

♡♡♡

It's a month after their sunset and.

It happens when he's driving.

It's slow to start, so slow that Harry hardly notices. He just keeps nodding to the music and minding the speed limit, a soft smile on his face as he imagines Louis and love and bright blue eyes. He's tired; he attributes the blur to unfocused eyes. So he straightens up, tells himself it's only a little bit further, wake up.

He drives home with caution and care, grips the steering wheel tight and focuses solely on the road (and the catchy songs that float through his ears). He mumbles along to it to stay alert. He still doesn't notice.

Harry pulls up in the driveway, turns everything off, and gets out, so excited to see his boy and—

He can hardly see.

The world has blurred ridiculously. He can hardly tell where the sky ends and the roof begins. His boots blend into the grass, the car is melting into the driveway. His breath catches in his throat. What is this? He needs to make it inside. Maybe it's happening to Louis, too?

It's a little hard walking to the door when his surroundings have blended together, but he eventually succeeds, pushing out a sharp sigh when he grabs the handle. He closes his eyes, figures it's easier to handle everything this way, and fishes his keys out of his pocket with his free hand. Breathe in, breathe out.

Think of blue.

When he finally gets inside, he calls out Louis' name before daring to take a look. He's too afraid. What if things were still wrong?

"Lou?" he tries again, his teeth digging deeper into his bottom lip at the lack of a response. Why can't Louis hear him? Is he asleep? Harry braces himself and finally opens his eyes, a whine slipping through when he sees the blur has not intensified, yet has not lessened. "Louis." He doesn't expect Louis to answer now. This just keeps him relaxed.

Locking the door, he forces himself to relax. He needs breath. He needs blue.

He closes his eyes again, knows the house like he knows the back of his hand. He reaches into his pocket for his phone. Black. A thread catches on one of his rings. Silver. He snatches it out, ignores the snap of the material and turns the phone back on, wondering if maybe Louis texted him or called him or something while he was driving. He always turns it off when he's driving. He always thought phones could wait, goddammit. That's what he learned.

Sure enough, when Harry dares to peer at the screen, there is a message from Louis. It's a teasing one — y'know, for you to not like tea much, we run out of it extremely fast — and Harry's heart drops because Louis isn't here so what does he do now? He needs blue. He puts his phone away again after an attempt to call his soulmate ends in voicemail, figures it won't take Louis long to come back from the store, and heads upstairs. The blanket, the blanket like the sky and the ocean and Louis's eyes.

Maybe Harry's too old for safety, but it's much better than panicking, so much better.

The blur gets worse as he walks, his fingers trailing against the wall just to make sure he knows where he's going. He bites the inside of his cheek, feels like he's stumbling through a horror attraction, his stomach twisting as all the color in his world seems to drain and pool at his feet. He knows his room is the second door on the right. He's there. Just a few steps from comfort.

Why didn't Louis pick up?

He collapses onto his bed, reaching for that blanket he's shoved under his pillow for emergencies. He's just about to call Louis one more time when he opens his eyes again and a strangled cough breaks free because the blur is gone but.

It's not blue.

It's faded. It's gray. And with a start, he realizes that nothing is blue. Nothing is blue or brown or red or gold or green. Everything is gone. Everything is dead.

Still clutching the blanket, Harry pushes himself up, trudges over to the mirror on the back of the door. His eyes. Former green. His lips. Once pink. His hair. No longer brown. He's. He's just. He's.

This is what the world looks like with no soulmate.

He rips his phone out of his pocket, struggles to remember every color of every thing as he rings Louis. The pillows. Cream. The covers. Black. They haven't changed. His boots. Blue and silver and red and God, how Louis teases him for them. His wallpaper, an old picture of the two of them. Louis' jumper was like amethyst. His shirt was ivory. They were bright. Everything is dull.

He dials Louis and Louis doesn't answer and he doesn't expect Louis to answer but he hangs onto that blanket because he knows it's that specific blue. He knows it.

Color suddenly jumps back into his vision for a split second. He drops the phone, wrings the blanket, and then it's gone. It happens again, a jolt of vivid color, like Louis is here holding his hand, but it disappears.

There's an ache in his chest, a good few shocks to his heart that only intensifies the pain. His phone begins to vibrate, dancing stiffly on the carpet. Taupe. It was taupe. The number is unfamiliar, not Louis', not anyone's. It rings and rings and then there's a message but why should he even listen?

He knows what's happening now.

Louis has faded and he's taken Harry's color with him.

He buries his face in that blanket.

Blue. He'll never see blue again.

How is he supposed to wear more color for Louis now?


End file.
